


Frustration

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Chess, Doctor/Master - Freeform, F/M, Het, Longings, Randy Time Lords, Sexual Frustration, Sexual Imagery, Sexual Tension, The Vault (Doctor Who), Unconsummated Desire, inconvenient erections, occasional swears, twissy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-19
Updated: 2017-07-19
Packaged: 2018-12-04 09:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11552613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: The Doctor can't stop thinking about Missy. This is a bit of a problem.





	Frustration

The Doctor glanced up at the clock on the wall. Half past four, probably time to get started on marking that latest batch of essays. He drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk. He was aware that Nardole was talking to him, but he was only half-listening. (Nardole must be used to that by now, he probably wouldn't mind too much.) He was finding it difficult to concentrate, for some reason. Maybe if he went down to the vault for a bit he could...

He looked up at Nardole, having caught a fragment of his monologue. “What was that about Missy?”

“You weren't actually listening to me, were you?” asked Nardole. (The Doctor had been right though, he didn't seem to be upset.)

“I was. I just wasn't paying attention to all the words that were coming out of your mouth. So,” he prompted, “tell me what you said about Missy.”

“I just asked if I should go down there and check up on her. I think she might be feeling a bit out of sorts, she didn't even insult me when I took her breakfast in this morning.”

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at that. “What, not even once? She didn't even say you look like an egg with limbs?”

“I know,” said Nardole, “it was almost creepy. It's not that I enjoy the insults, but I'm used to them now and it feels sort of wrong when they're not there.”

“I'll go,” said the Doctor, seeing an opportunity and taking it. “There's maybe about a fifty percent chance that she'd actually tell me if there was something wrong.”

“Are you sure? Don't you have things you should be doing up here? I can pop down there now, it's no trouble.”

The Doctor found himself strangely irritated by the offer. “I'll go,” he repeated. “I haven't been to see her in a few days, she might be sulking. Again.”

“Okay, if you're sure.”

“I am.”

 

He let the doors close behind him and then looked around the vault. She was standing in front of the piano, pacing back and forth. He walked towards her and she stopped, turning to look at him. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, concerned.

“I'm fine,” she said. “Just a bit on edge.”

“Can I help?” he asked, dropping down into the armchair in front of her. 

She looked at him carefully for a moment and then shook her head. “No, I'll be okay.” With an obvious effort she stopped her hands fidgeting and stood still. “And you, Doctor, how are you feeling?”

“I'm good,” he told her.

“Are you sure? I was worried about you.” She seemed troubled by something. “Why did you come here?”

He shrugged, not entirely sure of his own motivations. “I just wanted to see you. It's been a few days, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

She nodded. “And you'll be off now, will you? Now that you've popped your head round to door to check I'm still alive in here?”

He felt strangely reluctant about the idea of moving again. It was probably just the lack of any desire to get back to work. “I can stay for a bit, if you want. We could play chess, maybe, or we could just talk.”

A slight smile curved her lips. “I'd like that.”

 

The Doctor examined the state of play, trying to decide on his next move. “You're staring again,” he said, without looking up.

“I was just resting my eyes,” said Missy. 

“On me?” He touched his queen, then thought better of it and left the piece where it stood.

“Is there a law against that?” she asked, a slight edge of irritation to her voice.

“Not that I know of.” He picked up a knight, hopping it towards her side of the board. “Your turn.” He looked up at her as she bent her head to look at the board.

Missy moved a pawn with apparent disinterest. “Now who's staring?” She sighed quietly. “You should play more aggressively, Doctor, your style can be quite tediously predictable at times.”

“Stop trying to distract me with compliments, you're not going to win.”

Missy leaned back in her chair. “It's mate in six moves, dear, I thought you might have noticed.”

He shook his head. “No, because...” Looking at the board he realised that she was right. He sighed. “Another game?”

Missy began rearranging the pieces, setting up again. “Shall we liven things up a bit?” she asked. “Make the game a bit more interesting?”

“What did you have in mind?”

She finished putting the pieces in place and looked up at him. “Every time you lose a piece, you also lose an item of clothing.”

He raised his eyebrows at her, surprised. “You want to play strip chess?”

“It's just a suggestion,” she said, sounding casual.

He scratched his chin. “But it's cold in here. And I'm wearing three t-shirts, it wouldn't be fair on you.”

“I'm not worried. Even with all that excessive layering I'm confident that I'll have your underwear in no time.”

He felt suddenly on-edge. He reached out a hand, toying with a rook. “I don't know. Maybe it's not such a good idea.”

“Scared of losing?” she asked sweetly.

“No, it's just... you know. Sometimes there's a certain... tension between us.” He met her gaze. “I'm sure you've noticed.”

Missy snorted. “Yes, Doctor, you're quite right, it will inevitably lead to loud, passionate sex. Probably right here, on the floor, we'd never make it to the bed.”

He looked at her in silence, her scenario playing itself out quite easily in his head. It wasn't too difficult to imagine her naked, moaning, calling his name as he... He coughed suddenly, shifted in his chair. 

“Staring again,” said Missy.

“I wasn't.” He tried not to wonder what her underwear looked like. “What's the time?” he asked, trying to change the subject.

“It's five to six,” she said, promptly. 

He pushed his chair back, the legs scraping noisily on the floor. “Shit,” he said, “I forgot about Bill.”

“Easily done, I suppose. Humans just don't stick in the mind the way Time Lords do.”

He got to his feet. “You'll be okay here without me?” he asked. 

Missy waved a hand dismissively. “Don't worry about me, go off and play with your little friend. I'll read a book or something.”

He hovered for a moment, wavering, before making the decision to leave.

 

When he got back to his office Bill was already in the chair in front of his desk.

“Sorry,” he muttered, apologetically, taking his usual place, “I lost track of time.”

“I thought Time Lords didn't do that,” she replied.

“On occasion,” he said, “when we get distracted.”

Bill leaned her chin on her hands. “What was the distraction?” she asked. 

Missy, of course. Missy and her endless ability to knock him off-balance. “Students,” he said. “They were in a huddle outside the library. I think they were smoking that stuff that makes their eyes go big.”

Bill laughed. “Weed? Outside the library? Weren't they worried about being caught?”

He shrugged. “Maybe. Who knows what goes on in the mind of an undergraduate?” He tried to focus on his companion's education. “Did you get that essay written?”

“It's not due until tomorrow,” she replied. “But yeah, I'm almost finished. Just doing a bit of editing, trying to get it to fit the word count a bit better.

He dragged his fingertips across the wooden surface of his desk. He glanced over at the TARDIS, still parked in her usual corner. He sat back in his chair and swivelled it gently from side to side.

“Are you feeling alright?” asked Bill, a slight frown on her face.

“Yeah, fine. Why do you ask?”

“You just seem like you're not entirely in the room. Like there's something on your mind.”

He rubbed his ear, looked at Bill. “Do you want to go somewhere?” He nodded towards the TARDIS. “Quick hop to the moon or something?”

“Yeah, of course I do, but you said we were going to leave all that outside the tutorials. You wanted me to focus on physics.”

“That's a stupid rule,” he said, spinning round in his chair. “I don't know what I was thinking.” He put his hands on the desk. “Come on, we can do all this stuff later, let's see where the TARDIS wants to take us.”

Bill looked uncertain for a moment, then smiled and nodded. “Okay, let's go.”

 

“You're spending an awful lot of time in here recently,” said Missy, glancing over her shoulder at him as she sat at the piano. She turned her attention back to the keys. “I'm not complaining, you understand, I'm just making an observation.”

He stared at her back, making a careful study of the way her clothes clung to the curves of her body. He shouldn't be doing that, really, but there was no harm in looking. “I'm avoiding humanity,” he lied, easily. 

“Oh? Finally getting bored of them, are you? It's about time, if you ask me. I'm always worried that you'll get fleas from one of them, or that you'll catch one of those stupid little diseases that they always seem to have.” 

He laughed at her words. “Honestly, it's just that you've been on mind a lot lately.”

Even with her back to him he could tell that she was pleased. “Any particular reason?”

“Not that I know of.” On a sudden impulse he rose from the chair, walked up the steps to join her at the piano. “Budge up.”

She shifted along the bench to make room for him, not missing a note.

He sat down next to her, watching her as she played. “Your hair's coming a bit loose at the back. Do mind if I fix it for you?”

She shrugged. “I don't care either way.”

He stood again and moved behind her, gently tugging the hairgrip that held her locks in place. Her hair fell down around her shoulders and he shoved the clip into a pocket without quite thinking. “You should wear it down more often,” he said, twisting a few strands between his fingers. 

“It gets in the way,” she said, still playing.

“It's pretty, though. Soft.” He leaned in just a fraction to inhale her scent. “Are you using a new shampoo?” he asked.

“Just that pink stuff you keep bringing me.”

“Keep using it, it smells nice.”

“Is that a request?” She was playing more softly now, something quiet and slow that he didn't recognise.

“If you like.” He carefully pulled her hair back behind her right ear. Almost without being aware that he was moving he bent down and kissed the side of her neck.

The music stopped. “Doctor.”

He moved slowly upwards, tugged her earlobe into his mouth. “Hmm?”

“Should you be doing that?” she asked. “It's nice, don't get me wrong, but it's giving me ideas and you're the one who banned sex in the vault.” She sighed softly. “I don't like being left frustrated.”

He pulled his mouth from her skin, but he didn't actually move away from her. “You're probably right.”

“When you said I've been on your mind a lot lately, were you referring to your sordid sexual fantasies? Go on, you can tell me, I'll keep your filthy little secrets to myself.” She held out a hand. “And I can I have my hair-clip back, please?”

“What? Oh.” He pulled it from his pocket and handed it back to her. 

“Well,” said Missy, reaching up put her hair back in its clip, “you know I hate to be the goody two-shoes, but you should probably get out of here before you do something you'll regret later on. Besides,” she added, “it's past six o'clock, you lost track of time again.”

He took a step back, suddenly hyper-aware of her proximity. He shook his head to clear it and took a deep, calming breath. “Sorry,” he said, with a rising shame, “I don't why I did that.”

“If you don't know why you're doing something then maybe you shouldn't do it,” she said, rather sternly. “And Doctor?”

“Yes?”

“I'm not a toy for you to play with when you're bored, and I don't appreciate you promising me things that you have no intention of delivering.”

Stung by her words he backed down the steps that led up to the piano. “Missy, I'm sorry, I just... You're right, I should go. But I really am sorry about all this. Do you want me to come back later on? I'll be on my best behaviour, I promise.”

“Not tonight, dear,” she said, placing her fingers on the keys once more. “And you might want to beg out of teaching your little human friend in favour of having a cold shower. Probably more than one, I know what you're like when you get excited.” She started to play again, an angry, menacing tune that he recognised as her own composition.

 

Nardole slid the tea-tray onto the desk. “Here's your tea,” he said, amiably. “I had to use the last of the milk, so I'll pop round to the shop later on to pick up some more. Do you want me to get you anything while I'm there?”

The Doctor rubbed his face with a hand. He had been thinking about Missy again, and he hadn't been able to push the thoughts aside when Nardole had entered the room. He wondered when he'd be able to find another excuse to go down to the vault to see her. 

He became aware that the silence in the room was beginning to stretch out rather uncomfortably. “Maybe some crisps,” he said, saying the first thing that came into his head.

“What flavour?”

He couldn't bring himself to care about something so trivial. “Anything, really, whatever catches your eye.”

Nardole nodded. “Crisps it is then.”

He just wanted Nardole to go away and leave him alone with his thoughts. “Sometimes that shop runs out of milk by mid-afternoon,” he said. “You should probably go now just in case.”

“Right, I'll be off then. Unless you need anything else while I'm here. What about biscuits, would you like some biscuits? I've got some of those little pink ones that you like.”

“Goodbye, Nardole,” he said, pointedly, gesturing towards the door.

“Bye, then,” said Nardole, closing the door behind him.

The Doctor waited for a few moments until he was sure that his friend was actually gone. He leaned back in his chair with a sigh and reached down to adjust his trousers and relieve some pressure. It was Missy again, of course, he'd made himself half-hard just thinking about her. He should head into the TARDIS for another freezing shower. Not that it would help much, he knew that soon enough his mind would wander back in her direction and he'd be right back where he started. 

It was ridiculous as well as embarrassing. He was two thousand years old, for God's sake, he wasn't still some century-old ball of raging hormones. Missy had been locked in that vault for decades now, and he'd always been able to resist any temptations before. Sure, yeah, occasionally he had thought about it, remembering old times or fantasising about new ones, and he'd long ago lost count of however many times he had gotten himself off while thinking about her, but this was different. This was like an infection. Maybe he had picked something up on his travels, maybe he had finally gone mad. 

That last visit had been a mistake. He shouldn't have kissed her, he knew that. He hadn't even meant to, as far as he could remember the sequence of events. It had just sort of... happened. And he had upset her. He owed her an apology of some sort, a really good one, not just mumbled words. Maybe he should go back to the vault right now and try to make amends in some way. Then again, maybe if he went to the vault he'd just do it again, or maybe he'd do something even more stupid. 

That train of thought was far too easy to follow. A kiss, quickly followed by another, and then the tactile sensation of touching her, hands wandering. Undressing her, lying her down on her bed, parting her legs and then...

Shit, this was just making things worse. He put his hands on his desk to stop them shaking, tried to slow his breathing right back down. 

He should stay far away from the vault right now. There was no way he could justify going down there in this condition. 

He went anyway.

 

“Missy?”

“Over here,” she called from her seat by the bookshelves.

He crossed the room, forcing himself to walk at his usual pace. When he reached her side she looked up from reading a thin paperback. “Oh, it's you,” she said, “I was hoping it might be someone interesting. Still, beggars can't be choosers, isn't that what they say on Earth?” 

“Missy.”

“What?” She glanced up at him again, then looked at him more carefully, studying him. “Oh, it's like that, is it?” She closed her book and placed it on the table by her chair. She gestured towards the obvious bulge in his trousers. “I suppose you want me to help out with your little problem. Is it a little problem? A big problem? I have to ask, you see, because you haven't let me so much as look at it since I got here.”

She stood up, and he took a step back, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Oh, don't look at me like that,” she said, “you're not the only one who's been suffering. I do have needs of my own, you know. Quite extensive needs, actually.”

She took another step, closed the gap. “What do you say, Doctor, eh? Quick shag, you and me, just to take the edge off? Or do you want me to leave the matter in your own hands, if you'll pardon the expression? Go on, tell me what you want.”

“I don't know what I want,” he said, trying to breathe normally.

“So why are you here?”

“I just thought... I just wanted to see you. Check on you, make sure you're okay.”

She laughed. “Oh, Doctor, you're such a terrible liar.” She reached her hand up to caress his cheek. He closed his eyes and leaned into the contact. She had such soft skin, he'd never really noticed that before. When she spoke again her voice sounded almost tender. “You've been depriving yourself, it's not healthy.”

He opened his eyes when she moved her hand away. “I know I can't have you, but you're the only thing I want.”

“Who says you can't?”

“ _I_ say I can't. You know the rules, you know I promised not to...” He swallowed. “Missy, please, just tell me what I should do. How do I make this stop?”

She tilted her head to one side as though thinking it over. “You must know what I'm going to say. Are you sure you want me to say it?” When he didn't answer she leaned up and whispered against his ear. “I want you. I always do.”

He put a hand to the back of her head, pulled her close enough to press his mouth against hers. Her lips parted and he kissed her slowly, carefully. Her hands settled on his shoulders, he felt her teeth against his bottom lip. He reached up to let her hair down, letting the clasp fall to the floor with a soft clattering sound.

“Missy.” He kissed her again, and her mouth felt so good that he wasn't sure he would ever want to stop. He felt her sliding her hand up under the hem of his t-shirt, hot against his skin. 

She smiled against his lips. “Oh, the things I'm going to do to you. You shouldn't have made me wait this long.” Another slow kiss. “Do you have any idea how much I want you?”

“Probably about as much as I want you.” He stumbled backwards as she pushed him towards the bed, he kept kissing her over and over. He fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, clumsy in his haste. 

He fell backwards onto her bed, Missy landing on top of him. Somehow the impact seemed to knock some sense back into him, and he ducked his head away the next time she tried to kiss him.

She pushed herself up and stared down at him, obviously confused. “What's wrong?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “Missy, get off me. Please.”

“But I thought...” She gestured between them.

“I did,” he said. “I still want to. But I can't.”

After a moment Missy rolled off of him and then got to her feet to stand by the bed. “I hate you,” she said, coldly.

“I know you do, I'm sorry.” He sat up on the edge of the bed.

“Get out.”

“What?”

“Go. Leave me alone. I don't want to see you ever again.”

He stood. “I'll go right now if that's what you want but I'll have to come back at some point.”

“Why? Can't you just send the egg in occasionally to make sure I don't die of starvation?” 

He hadn't seen her so angry in a very long time. “Calm down.” He reached to touch her arm.

She pulled away from him. “Don't touch me,” she hissed. “You don't get to touch me ever, ever again.”

He held his hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Okay, fine, I'll leave you alone. But I can't stay away forever. Do you understand that?”

She turned away, heading back to her books. “Do what you want. You always do.”

 

Six o'clock again. Bill sat opposite him on the other side of the desk, a textbook lying open in front of her. She had handed in her essay earlier that day and from the brief glance he had given it it looked to be another good one.

The Doctor spun around in his chair, staring up at the ceiling. There was a crack in the plasterwork that looked almost exactly like the Medusa Cascade. He had never noticed that before.

“Doctor,” said Bill.

He looked over at her. “What?”

“Quantum theory?” she prompted. 

“Oh. That.” He swung his chair back round to face the desk. “It's really not that interesting, are you sure you want to know about it?”

“Is it on the exam?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Probably.”

“Then yes.” She leaned forwards, elbows on the desk. “Look, I don't want to be nosy, and I know you're quite a private person, but... is there something on your mind?”

“Time Ladies,” he said without thinking.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he said, “it's not important.” 

“Right,” said Bill, doubtfully. “Because if you've got a problem then you can always tell me, you know that, right? I'm not going to judge you or anything.”

He leaned back in his chair. “Bill, Bill, Bill,” he said, looking back up at the ceiling.

“That's my name, yeah.”

“It's a good name,” he said, turning back to look at her.

“Thanks.” She was silent for a moment, and then she spoke again. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He turned the idea over in his head. Did he want to talk about it? He didn't want to have to explain the situation to someone else, but talking was supposed to help when you had a problem, wasn't it? 

“It might make you uncomfortable,” he said, eventually. 

“Okay,” she said, and he could see her steeling herself to deal with whatever freaky alien problem he was having.

“It's about Missy. And me. Me and Missy. The two of us.”

“Um. Are you about to tell me that you've been having sex with her? Because you're right, that does make me feel a bit uncomfortable.”

He raised his eyebrows. “I mention Missy and the first conclusion you jump to is that I'm sleeping with her?”

“You're an alien, she's an alien, who knows what you two to get up to in that vault.”

“Well, usually we just talk.”

“Good,” she said. “I mean, what you do with your free time is no business of mine, but in my head you don't have a dick. Or anything. You're just... smooth. Like a Ken doll.”

“I'm surprised you've given the matter so much thought.”

“Actually that's how I think of most men. I mean, no offence, but dicks are kind of disgusting.”

The Doctor tried to steer the conversation back to his problems with Missy. “So anyway, as I was saying...”

“Sorry, go on, I'm listening.”

“I'm not having sex with Missy. At least, I'm trying not to. Lately I've been finding that a bit difficult.”

Bill looked slightly queasy but she seemed determined to get through this conversation somehow. “Are you in heat?” she asked.

He frowned. “What?”

“Are you in heat? You know, like when dogs get all hormonal and start humping your leg.”

“Uh. No.”

“Time Lords don't do that then?”

“No, they don't. They don't even have sex, most of the time. We're normally very good at controlling those sorts of impulses. Missy's been down in that vault for decades and it's never been like this before.”

“Is it that you want to impregnate her?”

“I don't know if I should even dignify that with a response.”

“Well, it might be that. She's a girl, you're a boy -”

“A smooth, sexless boy, apparently.”

“Yeah, whatever, but maybe you've just gone broody. She's right there, and presumably she's fertile, and the birds and the bees and basically you just want to knock her up.”

“No,” he said, “it's not like that. It's something in my head. All I can think about is her. Not even her in a sexual context, necessarily, though obviously that's been something of a theme.”

“And does she have the same problem? Is she feeling, you know... distracted as well?”

“I think so,” he said, “I haven't actually talked to her about it as such, but there have been... incidents. Things have been said.”

“Right,” said Bill, “so you've both got Randy Time Lord Syndrome. I suppose getting you both neutered is out of the question?”

“Assume that it is.”

“Okay, that's me out of suggestions.”

“Thanks anyway.” He rubbed his face with his hand. “I should probably go and check up on her, actually. Do you want to come with me?”

“Promise you won't do anything sexual while I'm there?”

“Um, actually that's why I want you to come with me. You'll ruin the mood.”

“Oh. Okay.”

 

Missy was at the piano again. She didn't look round when the doors opened. “I thought I told you not to come back.”

“You did,” said the Doctor, standing at the entrance to the vault,“but I didn't listen. Look, I've been thinking -”

“With which organ?”

He winced. Fair enough, though, he deserved that one. “This thing, whatever it is, it's not normal. Which means we can probably put a stop to it.”

Missy stopped playing. “Hrm. You may have a point there.” She brought her legs round to sit facing them. “Oh, you've brought your latest human. That's nice. Can I have one too? Something to look after. You know, like a little pet. I promise to clean up after it.”

“Nice to see you too,” said Bill.

Missy smiled sweetly and crossed her legs, folding her hands in her lap. 

“So,” said the Doctor, “we need to work out what the problem actually is.” 

“You can come a bit closer if you like, I won't bite. Certainly not with her watching.”

He hesitated for a moment, before nodding and stepping further into the room. “I was thinking it might be some sort of telepathic interference,” he suggested. 

“I suppose it might be,” said Missy. “If it is then there's probably some way to block the signal. A nice tinfoil hat, maybe. Something shiny but fashionable.”

“Do you have any other ideas?” asked the Doctor.

“Um, I had a thought,” said Bill. 

“Oh, now there's a novelty,” said Missy, “a human with an idea.”

The Doctor sighed. “You don't have to be rude all the time, Missy. Perhaps on occasion you might want to try a bit of diplomacy.”

“Shut up, dear,” said Missy, without moving her eyes from Bill. “Come on then, whatever-your-name-is, out with it. Don't be shy, I could use a good laugh.”

Bill cleared her throat. “Okay. Um. What about the TARDIS?”

“What about it?” asked Missy. “Do you want to go and hide in it? That's a good idea, I wonder why I didn't think of that.”

“Missy,” said the Doctor with a warning glare. 

“The TARDIS gets into your head, right?” said Bill. “And it's alien, it was made by Time Lords. So maybe that's why it's only affecting you two.”

Missy looked at the Doctor. “Okay, this one's quite clever, you picked well for once.”

“Maybe the TARDIS is lonely or something.” Bill shrugged. “Maybe she thinks you're lonely too.”

“I knew he was letting that thing develop too much of a personality,” said Missy. “See, Doctor, this all your fault. Again.” She beckoned towards Bill. “Come here, human, I'll give you a biscuit or a hug or something.”

“I'm fine, thanks,” said Bill.

“You should keep this one,” said Missy to the Doctor. “She's not too stupid and I find her quite decorative. You can get rid of the egg one, though, he's rubbish.”

“I'll have a look at the TARDIS,” said the Doctor. “I'll check the telepathic circuits, see if she's been putting ideas into people's heads.” He nodded to Bill and turned to leave.

“Let me know if you need any help,” called Missy as the doors closed behind them. “I'll just be sitting here in my big empty vault doing nothing.”

Bill paused outside the vault. “Doctor...”

“Yes? Something on your mind?”

“Not really, it's just...”

“What?”

“I can't believe you actually want to have sex with that horrible woman.”

 

“Checkmate,” said Missy. “That's the third game in a row to me, by the way, if you're keeping score.”

The Doctor shook his head. “I'll beat you next time.”

“Doubt it.” She began to set up the board again. “I'd swear your concentration was better than this when you couldn't stop thinking about shagging me.” She looked up at him. “Anyway, you solved that little problem so maybe we can risk a quick game of strip chess. Since you're doing so badly this afternoon and I'm certain to win.”

He sighed. “I'm not going to play strip chess with you.”

“You're right, it lacks a certain dignity. Not really suitable for Time Lords.” She smiled brightly. “How about a quick tumble between the sheets?”

He looked at her. “Are you sure you're not still under the influence?”

“I'm not,” she said, “but that doesn't mean all my explicit and perverted thoughts have disappeared.”

“Missy, how many times do we have to go over this? You have to stay in the vault, that makes you my prisoner, there's a power imbalance between us and I will not, under any circumstances, take advantage of that fact.” He sat back. “You can go and have a quick fumble in the bathtub, if you'd like, I'll wait here till you get back.”

She pouted. “But it's not as much fun on my own. Besides,” she added, “you owe me sex.”

“I do not owe you sex,” he said wearily.

“Yes, you do. It was your TARDIS that was causing the problem, therefore it's your responsibility to deal with the consequences.”

“Missy, shut up.”

“Make me. Preferably in the kinkiest way you can think of.”

“If I didn't give in when I was all...” he waved a hand “...fixated, then I'm certainly not going to give in now, am I?”

She shrugged. “Your loss.” She leaned forwards and added, in a confidential tone, “There's this little trick that I've been practising with my vagina, which I know you would absolutely love -”

“Missy, I'm not going to have sex with you while you're still in this vault.”

“Oh, fine,” she said, “I suppose I can wait. But when I get out of here I'm going to ride you until you pass out.” She winked at him. “Just a little something to look forward to. A little inspiration for those cold, lonely nights when you're all alone with your right hand.”

He rolled his eyes. “Can we get back to playing chess now?”

“If you insist.” She watched him move his first pawn. “Seriously? Is that your best move?”

He looked down at the board. “Why, what's wrong with it?”

“I'm not going to tell you if you don't know.”

He pointed at her. “You're just trying to annoy me, aren't you? Well, it won't work, I'm going to win this time.”

“No, you won't.”

“I will.”

“Anything you say, dear.”

He glared at her, but she didn't seem remotely bothered by it. She smiled back at him and picked up a knight. “Remind me how the little horses move again?”

“You know, just sometimes, on occasion, I really, really hate you.”

She laughed. “I wouldn't expect anything less.”


End file.
